Every year, Tim and Matt Nichols create hundreds of different kinds of Japanese maples — in a dizzying array of shapes and colors and sizes — at their mail-order nursery in East Flat Rock. And every one of the trees has roots in their grandmother’s garden.
Our editor in chief reminisces about the magnolias, walnuts, and oaks of her childhood, and the beauty they create every autumn.
Forestry didn’t exist in America until two men — each with his own vision for how to protect our woodlands — arrived in western North Carolina and nurtured the profession into being.
Deep in a forgotten forest within sight of a nameless ridge, a beech tree wears a set of initials, evidence of a moment shared between a father and a son.
A survey of the state’s old-growth forests from the mountains to the sea provides a glimpse into our presettlement — and primeval — past.
Fraser firs may be the big tree on campus at lots across the state, but on Down East cut-your-own farms, cedar, cypress, and pine are the trees that growers vote most likely to succeed.
A Fraser fir, always and only. Folks who’d stoop to taking home something like a Scotch pine? Amateurs.
The American chestnut ruled our forests for centuries, but a killer blight made up of microscopic spores needed only 50 years to wipe the giant from the face of North America. But we still have buildings made from it, and we still have people pulling for it. An organization based in Asheville wants to bring it back from memory and make the chestnut stand tall again.
Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest is 3,800 acres of unchecked wilderness. Here, centuries-old trees scrape the sky and shelter a natural world that reminds us of our place on this planet.
